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Madrid

distorte:

I check into my room later than expected, half elevenish, so there’s no time to meet anyone. I drop my bag and leave again, book underarm, to have a quick beer and some croquettes before bed. My hotel is just off Gran Via so I head down towards a bar I know. At a pedestrian crossing an exceptionally beautiful black girl draws up beside me and says something. I deploy my usual: “No habla Español.” (Too friendly, already.)

“Oh, what? You speak English?” Strong African lilt.

“….” (But somehow also too friendly.)

“Listen, I want to give you a blowjob. I will give you the best blowjob you ever had.”

Involuntary grin, as always. (Too friendly.) “No, no thanks. I’m grand.”

“Come on, let’s go somewhere. I’ll suck your dick. You will be amazed.”

“No, really. No.”

She takes hold of the crook of my arm as I start across the street. Her fingers are gorgeously cool in the overpowering night air, but I still turn and say “Hey!” with a flash of real irritation in my voice. “What?” she replies, letting go. “Where are you going?” and there’s a flash of real irritation in hers, as if I were reneging on a half-completed deal. I walk on, but I am alone and tired in a foreign city, and a large part of me wants to continue arguing just for the human contact.

add in a couple more drug dealers, some beer peddlers, and trying to avoid them by walking overly quickly through the narrow mazelike corridors of the barri gothic and this is pretty much what my nights in Barcelona were like. (it’s still a pretty city though. I’m just saying.)